A Very Special Race

Hashawha Hills 50K will always be special to me for a number of reasons.  It was Hashawha where I took my first trail run on a day with so much ice, I shudder when I remember it now.  Hashawha was where I learned to run trails...where I learned of a special band of friends and trail runners who even took their name from the relentless hills, together "lovingly" called "the Evil Sisters."  Hashawha is where Beth taught me not to be afraid, Chris taught me to run straight through streams, Pam taught me how to "chop-chop" down hills and Coach Alan taught me not to be a sissy with pithy advice like, "it takes more energy to try and run around mud than to run through it" and "its not if you will fall, but when, and how bad." But he always ended every run with "Did you have fun?" and I could honestly say "YES!"  And four years ago, it was at the Hashawha Hills 50K where I ran my first ultra.  I had no intention of becoming a trail runner, let alone an ultra runner.  But that is what Hashawha did to me.  The peaceful beauty of the trail wrapped itself around me and called me in.

Each of the last three HH50's I have become faster, from 7:35 on my first finish to a 50K PR of 6:45 last year.  But years and times can't be compared, because the trail holds all the power.  Weather, footing and training change, and what looks like the same trail can turn into a completely different run.  I like that.  It is what makes trail running magical.  The first loop this year was an icy, frozen, horse print filled trail, with numbing stream crossings and slick road sections.  I did my best to run steady, controlled, and even then, I slipped more than once.  I felt good coming through the mid way aid station, and headed back out looking for more of the same, but was treated to a kinder, gentler trail for the first few miles.  The earth had softened, the mist had let up, and the untreated roads were now dotted with puddles rather than ice.  Ahhh. This was nice.  Then, the out and back to the rubber bands.  Slipping, sliding, down through the stream, and using my hands to get back up on the bank.  More running, more sinking, more rinsing and repeating.  Then the fields; the first time through, they were hard, unforgiving clumps of grass and corncobs.  Now they were soft, mushy and refreshingly pleasant.

Another stream crossing, inches of mud, a few more climbs, the little log cabin, and then my favorite part - the pines.  I can vividly remember the first time running through them years ago...how they smelled so good, how soft the needles were underfoot...how they were lined up in perfect rows.  It was a short section, but it signaled the end of the race, so near the finish.  With mostly downhill now, I could take off, and run faster than I had in a while.

Down the hill and through to the finish.  I probably tried to run too fast, since I was out of breath and panting coming in.  I wasn't prepared for the muddy grass at the end, and it took everything I had not to go flying as I came around the corner. But I crossed the line, and received my third beautiful clay mug from the inspiring race director, who just happens to be the original "Evil Sister".  As much as I love Hashawha, I may stop at 4 so I can become one of the amazing volunteers who make this a wonderful memory more than just a race!

Thank you, Hashawha!